


A Way of Seeing (JohnTen AU)

by johnnytho (otabearaltin)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, Vignette, artist!Ten, sassy!Taeyong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otabearaltin/pseuds/johnnytho
Summary: "Oh shit, did i break something? It just looked like a pile of garbage from the side mirror.""That pile of garbage was my artwork, dammit."Weeks away from the exhibit that will make or break his future in the contemporary art scene, Ten finds himself scrambling to replace a piece in his collection after the campus ‘bad boy’ accidentally destroys it with his motorcycle.





	A Way of Seeing (JohnTen AU)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a JohnTen adaptation of a fic I wrote for the Yuri On Ice fandom a few years ago, and I figured it would work for Johnny and Ten so this happened! The johnten tag has been lacking fluff so here's my small contribution, I hope you enjoy it~
> 
> I've edited and revised this to the best of my ability, so I sincerely apologize for any inconsistencies or errors that may come up! If you'd like to reach me, you may do so via @minseoktho on twitter :)

"Get rid of it."

That was all Mr. Moon Taeil, the art professor-slash-gallery director, offered to say about the piece in front of him before pursing his lips. A flat line. Had it not been for the eyes that bore holes of displeasure through him, Ten would have been certain that Taeil’s zipped up lips made him look like a poorly drawn caricature. Normally, Ten would not hesitate to vocalize his snarky thoughts, but he knew this wasn’t the time. Not when the success of his first solo exhibit rested on turning Taeil’s pursed lips into a satisfied smile.

“I-Is there anything I can do to fix it?” Ten inquired, cutting through the silence that uncomfortably hung between them in the 20-year old’s workspace. “There’s got to be some advice you can give–”

“Advice is precisely what I gave you: get rid of the damned thing. Compared to the rest of the work in your collection, this is garbage.”

To Taeil’s credit, it really was garbage in the strictly literal sense. Being no stranger to sculptures that made intelligent use of trash and recyclable material as medium to convey a clear message or meaning, he was fairly certain that Ten deliberately 3D-printing a large pile of garbage bags delivered little artistic vision, if at all. “The idea of the piece was to appear like garbage even when it really isn’t,” Ten replied defensively. “because we judge things based on how we perceive them!” he added, paraphrasing a well-known notion in art theory for good measure. Taeil did not even bother turning the answer around in his head before stopping in front of Ten.

“Let me level with you,” Taeil began, tenting his fingers as he spoke. “this is an exhibit, not an art theory class. How you’re gonna be seen as an artist after this exhibit opens all goes down to how people are gonna perceive your work!” he continued. Ten gradually stopped furrowing his eyebrows, only then being made aware that he was doing so in the first place. “Tell me...do you want to be taken seriously as an artist, Ten?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you want people to walk into your exhibit thinking your art is iterations of literal garbage?”

“....No, Sir.”

“Then I rest my case.” Taeil gave Ten a once-over before slowly making his way to the door. “The exhibit’s four weeks away, I expect a fresh idea for your final piece over the next few days. And,” he turns to gesture vaguely at the 3D-printed garbage. “get rid of...that.”

Ten made sure the older man was no longer within earshot before yelling an extensive list of profanities. Luckily his workspace is an old painting studio-turned-storage room in the university’s old building that he cleaned up to use, so no one but himself was subject to hearing language whose colorfulness rivalled his collection of oils, acrylics, and what-have-you. He was fuming, but what about, he was no longer certain. All things considered, Taeil was right. A pile of 3D-printed garbage bags was anything if not uninspired; a misstep in Ten’s otherwise well-made and well-curated upcoming exhibit. At 20 years old and on his third year in college, he was the future of Thai contemporary art. If anything, he was most angry at himself for not thinking of replacing the sculpture sooner. But still, he was reluctant about throwing out an artwork, the way Ten’s parents must have felt sending him off on his own from Thailand to South Korea for a full art scholarship. With a heavy heart, Ten picked up the artwork and left the studio.

 

—

 

Ten had just gotten out of the old building and stepped onto the parking lot when his phone began to ring. Thankfully, aside from being one of the few people who’d be at school on a Saturday in the first place, he managed to park close enough to the old building’s steps. He set the artwork down next to the lamppost adjacent his car before picking up his phone. He didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Taeyong, who was probably about to talk his ear off about some new eye candy.

“Hey Ten! Bitch listen, you gotta swing by my place for dinner so I can tell you about my dance instructor’s new assistant who is fine aS FUCK, IT’S–”

“Ohmygod Yong, I love you and all but when did I ever care for any of your boy toys?”

“BITCH, LET ME FINISH. It’s the hot American boy, Johnny Seo!!” Ten began choking on nothing at the mention of Johnny, the mysterious and brooding campus ‘bad boy’ who Ten has had a crush on for a while. “W-what? Why? Is he even an Art major?” Ten already knew he was a Business major (because of course he did), but Johnny dipping his toes into dance was a mystery all the same that piqued his interest.

“I’ll tell you all about it later! Leaving the studio late again?”

“Nah, I’m about to leave in a bit to bring a rejected piece home so I’ll be at your place before 6. Bye!” Ten stuffed the phone back in his jean pocket, and fished out his car keys.

He doesn’t recall ever telling Taeyong directly about liking Johnny, but being attracted to the Korean-American in one form or another seemed to be the norm in the university. The guy was so perfect, it was sickening. Sure, he wasn’t very sociable and he looked like trouble with slick, wavy hair and a motorcycle, but he was well-liked for multiple reasons. Despite initially looking like a delinquent to most of the teachers, his good academic record actually opened the university’s doors to accepting more non-Korean students. No stranger to attracting admirers from different genders and sexual orientations, even the people Johnny has rejected (i.e. everyone who has tried hitting on him) had nothing bad to say about the man. A lot of people wanted to be closer to Johnny, but polite as he was, it seemed that there was no one in particular he’s ever wanted to open up to. Knowing this, Ten was satisfied admiring the man from afar, wondering if Johnny even knew he existed when their worlds were so different. (Surely, if Johnny was really interested in business he’d have heard of all the art collectors scrambling to acquire a piece by THE Ten before his market value shot up, but this could just be Ten being too optimistic about his own career.)

“Speak of the devil…” Ten whispered to himself as he lifted his car’s trunk. As if on cue, Johnny himself came into view looking every inch like a modern-day James Dean as he rolled up to the parking lot on his motorcycle. Ten had to literally pinch himself in the leg to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Deciding that pinching himself hurt a lot, he shook his head and walked over to pick up the rejected artwork on the floor. At least, that was what he planned on doing before he stopped in his tracks. As luck would have it, Johnny had decided to park right next to him in the nearly empty parking lot. On top of that, Johnny had also decided to back up his motorcycle enough to crush a significant portion of Ten’s extremely fragile sculpture. Hearing the odd crunch under his motorcycle, Johnny cut off the engine and immediately removed his helmet to inspect his rear wheel.

"Oh shit, did i break something? It just looked like a pile of garbage from the side mirror."

"That pile of garbage was my artwork, dammit."

“Well…” the taller man drawled, “that’s one way to call it.”

“I was being serious.”

“...I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ten let out an exasperated sigh, a reaction that Johnny considered far too mellow for what the situation clearly called for. To Johnny’s credit, it really did look like a pile of garbage, that much Taeil made clear earlier. And Ten was going to get rid of the piece anyway, but not by having it run over by the man of his dreams. Johnny was considerate enough to push his motorcycle a bit further away from the now destroyed piece, and while Ten had half a mind to pick it up and bring it home, he ultimately decided against it. He turned around to close his car’s trunk when he was stopped by a rough hand gripping his lanky wrist.

“Hey,” Johnny began, in a voice so gentle that Ten was sure his stomach was doing pirouettes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if you won’t let me make it up to you.” Upon realizing he still had his hand around the shorter man’s wrist, he quickly withdrew his hand while muttering an apology. “I mean...I don’t really know much about making art but if there’s anything I can do to help you, I’d do it.” he said, scratching his nape. For a fleeting moment, it seemed to Ten that Johnny was nervous, but he had no reason to be. Ten shook the thought away as wishful thinking on his part.

“Well, thank you but...I can’t really think of anything right now. I’ll let you know, I guess?” Ten replied shyly. Was he flirting? Even he thought he didn’t sound very much like his usual, brash self. But the reply earned Ten the sight of a smiling Johnny, head dipped to the side with his lips curved upward ever so slightly. Ten had to ball a fist behind him, hoping it would keep his heart from doing a grand jete out of his chest. The brown-haired man took out his phone, opened his contacts, and handed it to Ten. “Fine by me. But let me text you about it...in case you forget.”

 

—

 

“BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII–”

“OHMYGOD YONG, WILL YOU CALM DOWN?”

It’s only been an hour since Ten’s eventful encounter with Johnny, and Taeyong began freaking out the minute Ten mumbled to his mashed potatoes that the other asked for his number. “I’m sorry Ten, but this is a big deal! The guy doesn’t exactly go around talking to everyone, let alone asking for people’s numbers.”

“He was just being nice cause he broke my artwork, that’s all.”

“Oh please, if I were him I would’ve just given you money for the trouble and called it a day. You guys were totally flirting,” Taeyong lilted. He felt swayed to believe that too, but Ten brushed off the prospect of mutual attraction as a perspective skewed by his crush on the older man. “I mean, asking for your number ‘in case you forget’ to keep in touch? That’s smooth as fuck, how are you not melting right now?”

But he was. He can’t get himself to forget the satisfied look on Johnny’s face as he looked at Ten’s number on his phone, saying “Ten” to himself in a way that made the brunette’s legs do a fine contemporary dance rendition of gelatin. He was, of course, never letting Taeyong know that. He dismissed him with a groan before asking him what Johnny was even doing assisting in preparations for the Dance department’s show coming up in two months.

As it turned out, Johnny was pursuing a Business degree with an Art Management track. “It’s basically business but with a focus on PR, arts, and whatever,” Taeyong explained. “so Johnny’s assisting in the Dance department’s upcoming show as credited work hours for a class.” Ten nodded in reply, having nothing to add to the revealed information.

“I still think he might be interested in you, though.”

“Are we seriously talking about this again? He’s just being nice!” Ten breathed out exasperatedly.

“For fuck’s sake, Chittaphon, just hear me out on this! Everything clicked in my head when you said he asked for your number!” Taeyong took the silence that followed as a cue to continue. “Johnny didn’t really want to help the Dance department...he wanted to assist the gallery director.” For the second time that day, Ten found himself choking thanks to Johnny Seo.

“T-Taeil?? Why?”

“Word on the street said working with Taeil meant being hands-on with gallery preparations...” Taeyong replied nonchalantly, but the gleam in his eyes undeniable. “Taeil discouraged him because Johnny would have to work closely with the artist for the upcoming exhibit.”

“...that’s my exhibit.”

“Exactly, you dense little bitch.”

 

—

 

Ten was certain his face was on fire the entire time he was walking from Taeyong’s apartment on the third floor to his own on the fifth. Who could blame him? He never thought his crush would be doing anything so close to his world. His chest was swelling with a strange amount of optimism, wondering if Johnny wanted to be Taeil’s assistant because he was interested in Ten. But the brunette, skeptical as he always was of people (save for Taeyong and his family), suppressed that optimism by convincing himself that if anything, Johnny was interested in his art. He was probably interested in all the press that began surrounding his work recently. Probably.

He didn’t find himself thinking about Johnny as he went about preparing for bed. It was a rare day for Ten to be at home and ready for bed at 9PM when he’d normally still be holed up in the studio making art, but he figured that trying to not do any work would help him come up with an idea for his final piece. He was in the middle of brainstorming different concepts when his screen lit up and broke him from his reverie. It was a message from Johnny. Ten found himself subconsciously combing his fingers through his short hair and fixing his bangs, in an effort to look presentable to a man who couldn’t even see him right now. He picked up his phone and read the message:

 

_Good evening Ten, Johnny here. :-)_

_I realize that you gave me your number but I never got around to giving you mine._

_So have you thought of anything I can help you with or what? I’m serious, I swear._

 

Ten smiled at his screen. If appearances were everything, he would have never taken Johnny for someone who texted like an excessively formal old man. Guess this showed that whatever presumptions he had of the man could be wrong.

And then it clicked. He found just what his exhibit needed. He could already see the smile on Taeil’s face. Without wasting any more time, Ten quickly sent Johnny a reply:

 

_now that you mention it, i think i found just the thing hehe_

_monday afternoon_

_meet me @ the art studio in the old building :)_

 

—

 

Ten walked with a skip in his step as he made his way across the campus from the gallery to his studio in the old building. He just finished proposing his idea for his final piece to Taeil, and it was clear from the small smile on the older man’s face that he was satisfied. Having secured the gallery director’s approval, it was now only a matter of convincing Johnny to model for the piece. Granted, the older man did say that he was willing to help Ten, so the brunette did not worry too much about persuading him.

Speaking of Johnny, Ten wasn’t expecting him till around 2 in the afternoon, but the lunch hour had just ended and the man was already standing by the art studio. His eyes landed on Ten walking down the hall. To be fair, Ten didn’t really specify a definite time in the afternoon. He expected Johnny to be busy with other matters, or in need of a good amount of time to find the studio in the abandoned building. “Wow, didn’t expect you to find the place so fast.” Ten remarked as he unlocked the door. “Well,” Johnny began with a nervous laugh, “you gotta give me more credit in knowing places in school. I’m a senior after all.”

“...fair enough.”

“I’ll put on some coffee.” said Ten, to which Johnny nodded. Ten rolled up the sleeves of his loose white smock before drawing water from the sink for the coffee pot. Johnny sat on the chair closest to the studio’s lone window wall with an odd air of familiarity. And the way the afternoon light glowed in from the window to Johnny’s strong facial features made the man look godly. He switched on the coffee maker and sat on the chair adjacent Johnny’s.

“Thanks for making time today, Johnny. I have a friend who’s a senior so I know you guys are busy these days…” Ten said, hoping he didn’t sound nervous as he tried to break the ice. The American had removed his leather jacket and placed it on top of the table. The man was wearing a black shirt that perfectly hugged his muscular upper body and a pair of acid wash jeans. Ten found it unfair for the man to be so good-looking.

“It’s nothing, really. I took on more classes as a junior so I could have more spare time this year for art management apprenticeship. And...hey,” Johnny reached over to gently tap Ten's hands that were folded over the table. “I owe you one, remember?” Ten willed himself not to drown in the chocolate brown pools of Johnny’s eyes, but everything about the other made Ten feel giddy. It took a lot of effort, but Ten managed to pull himself away from Johnny’s smoldering gaze to get up and ready two mugs that haven’t been repurposed for dipping paintbrushes yet. Johnny cleared his throat.

“So,” Johnny began, “any reason you asked me to drop by today?”

“Give me a sec,” Ten replied as he poured coffee into each mug. “how do you take your coffee?”

“Black please, thank you.” Ten set a mug in front of Johnny, which he gratefully took.

“So here’s the thing....” Ten said, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface of the mug. “I want you to model a bust for me.” Johnny spilled the coffee in his mouth back into the mug in shock.

“W-what? You want me...to be your model?” he inquired, to which the Thai man eagerly nodded.

“My exhibit’s coming up in a few weeks and I have to replace the piece you ran over, so I talked to the curator this morning about a new idea but it requires a bust and since you said you’d help me I thought–” Ten noticed Johnny furrowing his eyebrows so he quickly put a hand over his mouth upon realizing he was rambling. With a sigh, he continued. “I mean...you don’t have to, but you have just the build I was looking for to pull off the idea.” Silence hung over them for a while, and Ten humored himself by staring at the steam dancing above his coffee mug. It was out of the ordinary for Ten to be stretching his patience like this, but he didn’t want to risk scaring off a potential muse. Moreover, he didn’t want to scare off Johnny, period.

“I’ll do it.” Johnny declared with determination.

“Wh–you will?”

Johnny nodded. Before Ten could stop himself, he got up to tackle Johnny into a hug and squealed into the older man’s shoulder. Ten only realized what he did when Johnny’s strong arms made their way around his smaller frame.

“I don’t think I’d make a good model but hey, why not?” the American mumbled. Ten shook his head furiously.

“No! You’re perfect for this, trust me.” Ten replied, to which Johnny let out a low chuckle. If they were lingering in each other’s arms for too long, neither of them cared to admit it. Admittedly Ten was afraid to pull away, certain that his cheeks were too flushed for his liking.

 

—

 

Johnny spent all afternoon on the Saturday of that week at Ten’s studio. Ten had already oriented the man about the casting process the day before, so now it was only a matter of actually casting him. Johnny was worried at first, but when Ten assured him he’d only be casting the older man from the neck to his chest he felt more at ease. He took off his shirt, leaned back comfortably on the chair, and quietly watched Ten as the younger man prepared the plaster bandages he’d be using to make the cast.

“Just relax, okay?” Ten said as he walked over to Johnny. The brunette began coating Johnny’s chest with petroleum jelly, to act as a barrier between Johnny’s skin and the plaster. The older froze when Ten began nonchalantly gliding his oil-slicked hands across his bare chest. “I’ll just work on your chest today, since it’s the widest part of the piece and would take the longest to make. I’ll work on your neck another time…” Ten trailed off. Johnny’s completely red face did not go unnoticed.

“Is something wrong, Johnny?” he casually asked, extending his leg from where he sat so his toes could reach the tray full of plaster bandages on the floor. He dipped one in water to activate the plaster before placing it on Johnny’s collarbone.

“N-nothing, I just–”

“WOW we are definitely casting your neck another time, I’m gonna need all the plaster I have right now to capture the detail of your muscles.” Ten interrupted absentmindedly. “Oh...I’m sorry, you were saying something?”

“There it is! I’m amazed you can talk about my body so casually, it’s...new to me.” Johnny confessed. He was expecting Ten to blush or get flustered like he normally did when they talk, but Ten just waved him off and continued applying the plaster bandages on the older man.

“Yeah, us art students get that a lot. I guess people are under this impression that sexy shit happens during lifecasting or nude drawing sessions, but half of the time we’re staring at the model like ‘why the fuck can’t I draw your boobs right’ and literally nothing else happens.” Johnny slowly started laughing, much to Ten’s dismay.

“Ohmygod stop laughing, I’m serious!”

“You’re right, but I still think it’s a little funny.” the older replied, which made Ten roll his eyes (though he was smiling a bit at the sound of Johnny’s laugh).

“Not that, idiot. The cast will get all messed up if you keep moving!”

 

—

 

“Can I ask you something, Ten?” Johnny started. He was sitting still on the chair, waiting for the plaster to dry. It would only take around five minutes, but Johnny figured he’d make conversation.

“Sure, shoot.” Ten replied from where he was lying on the studio floor, picking mindlessly at the old paint splotches that littered his tattered work shirt.

“You said I had the ‘build’ you were looking for to pull off your idea...”

“Yeah, and?”

“What did you mean? The way I see it, it’d be better if you modelled the bust yourself since it’ll be part of your solo exhibit and all.” Ten rolled over on his side and shook his head at Johnny.

“It’s not that simple. This piece needs to portray strength. I take one look at you and I can’t deny how strong you look, and I…” the brunette wavered, drawing imaginary patterns with his fingers on the floor. “I just don’t look strong at all, even if I wanted to.”

“You sure have a weird way of looking at things,” Johnny remarked, which made Ten sit up in confusion.

“strength has nothing to do with bulky arms and six-packs. I haven’t known you for long, but the look in your eyes when you talk about your ideas...the way you focus and seem so determined...you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Ten didn’t think it was possible, but for the nth time that week he found himself blushing because of Johnny Seo.

 

—

 

They managed to end before 8PM, despite Ten needing to recast Johnny’s right shoulder when the older man couldn’t stop himself from tucking Ten’s fringe behind his ear when it blocked his eyes. While Johnny was rinsing off in the washroom, Ten busied himself with cleaning up the studio.

Ten was in the middle of (making a poor attempt at) putting some empty basins back on a high shelf when Johnny came back into the room. Afraid the younger man would fall from the stool he was tiptoeing on, Johnny rushed to his side. “It’s fine, I got it.” Ten said as he managed to finally push the basins in place on the shelf. Johnny meant to help Ten as he got down from the stool, but instead ended up poking the man’s waist. Ten only managed to squeak before clumsily falling off the stool, bringing him and Johnny on top of each other on the floor.

Johnny wanted to ask the brunette if he was hurt, but the latter wouldn’t stop laughing. Out of curiosity, Johnny poked Ten’s waist again. And again. “Ahh...so you’re ticklish.” the American remarked with a cheeky grin. He proceeded to tickle Ten, locking him in place in his arms despite the brunette’s incessant squirming.

“I-I can’t breathe,” Ten said, unable to stop himself from laughing. “ah, s-stop! John!”

Johnny stopped. He stared at Ten, dumbfounded. Ten, face a fitful shade of pink, began lightly hitting Johnny’s chest and pleading to be let go. The older shook his head and wrapped his arms tighter around Ten’s waist.

“Hmm…maybe later, Tenny.” Johnny cooed.

 

—

 

“If you tell me one more time that you and Johnny are definitely ‘not flirting’ when you CLEARLY ARE, I swear to God I’m gonna make you gargle holy water.”

“But Yong I–”

“You have nicknames for each other! And you probably spend more time hugging him than actually working! You guys are flirty as fuck, like I’d be personally offended if he doesn’t ask you out.”

Ten didn’t want to hear that, but what if Taeyong was right? The past few days have been unbelievable, and every time Johnny talked to him or messaged him, he found himself falling faster and harder. It was dangerous, that much Ten knew. But Johnny was difficult to dislike, and he made Ten feel loved if anything.

“He fucking walked you home because you left your car and he didn’t have an extra helmet, ohmYGOD TEN!” Taeyong exclaimed, shaking Ten by the shoulders. Before Ten could muster another reply drenched in denial, his phone buzzed from its place on Taeyong’s kitchen counter. It was a text from Johnny. Taeyong took it upon himself to open the message and read it out loud.

“Good evening, Tenny. I know we aren’t casting till Friday, but can I drop by your studio on Monday? I have something for you.”

Ten lunged toward his phone. “H-he really said that?” He took his phone from Taeyong and read the message again.

“So do you wanna tell me again how there’s nothing going on between you two, or should I get the holy water?”

“Seriously, Yong: fuck you if you end up being right.”

Ten left Taeyong’s apartment before he could finish hearing what may be his longest ‘yeah boi’ ever.

 

—

 

“Here, it’s for you.”

Johnny handed Ten a paper bag, which the latter took questioningly. In it was a simple black motorcycle helmet. “It’s not much,” Johnny began, scratching his nape. “but I hope you like it.”

“Thank you but...I can’t accept this,” Ten replied meekly. The look of hurt that swept Johnny’s features felt like a knife to his heart. “I’d feel awfully burdened receiving this from you.” He followed up, but he knew he couldn’t take back what he said. The older exhaled as though defeated, but the look he gave Ten when they locked eyes said otherwise.

“Listen, I’m...not very good with words and I don’t really know how to explain everything because I’m new to this kind of thing but, if you’d let me...I’d like to court you.” Johnny confessed, his head bent so low that his hair fell over his face. “I was gonna wait till after all our casting sessions before asking you, but after last Saturday...I don’t want you to think I’m playing with you. I would never do that,” He swept his hair back up and met Ten gaze again. “I really like you, Ten.”

“This helmet...is it supposed to be dowry or something?” Ten mused, putting the helmet on his head. His quip made Johnny relax a little, and the older man reached over to adjust the straps so the helmet would fit snug on Ten’s head.

“I got a plain one so you could paint it to suit your taste. Plus I figured you’d need a helmet when I bring you home, or take you out on dates.”

Ten scoffed. “Wow, you seem pretty confident I won’t reject you.”

“Honestly? I’m not. I just don’t want to feel like the only one who thinks there’s definitely something here.”

“Well you’re wrong. I don’t think there’s something between us,” Ten began as he threw the helmet back in the paper bag, and Johnny went pale. “I know there is. I like you too, Johnny.”

Johnny sighed in relief, and took one of Ten’s hands to kiss his fingertips. The brunette giggled at the gesture and pulled Johnny into his arms.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Tenny.” he said, nuzzling into the crook of the other’s neck.

 

—

 

It didn’t take long before word spread around campus that the Thai art prodigy and the school heartthrob were exclusive. (The latter was still in the midst of courting the former, but it was rather clear to everyone who saw them that they had eyes for no one but each other.) No announcements had to be made: seeing the two barely sociable men together constantly was all everyone needed to make sense of it all. No one had anything bad to say about the two getting together, either. Frankly, everyone thought they were perfect for each other, for which Ten was grateful.

Knowing how other people thought of them together, Johnny often used this information in hopes of swaying Ten to agree to be his boyfriend already. Ten, however, had been resilient in ignoring Johnny’s pleas in favor of getting to know the man first before committing to him. Anyone else would have been discouraged, but Johnny expected this much from the strong and beautiful object of his affection. God, he had it so bad for the Thai man. He could wait a lifetime for him if that was what it took.

 

—

 

These days, Ten had been spending more time at the gallery than his studio as he gradually moved his exhibit pieces to the space. The exhibit was a week and a half away, and with nearly all his pieces ready, he was not particularly stressed. Now it was only a matter of finishing his final work, which had Johnny’s casted neck and chest as a component. It was a site-specific piece, meaning to say that it was meant to exist only in the confines of the gallery, so he honestly had no choice but to spend his studio hours in the gallery instead. Ten wouldn’t have minded this before, but that was before Johnny happened. He hated to admit it, but he was happy every time Johnny came by the studio to be with him, even when he didn’t have to. He had gotten used to Johnny bringing them both food as they spent hours poring over their respective work, and he had gotten used to leaving his car at home in favor of riding on Johnny’s motorcycle and hugging the man from behind. And because his exhibit space was currently restricted to everyone but himself, Ten had been seeing Johnny less than he had become used to.

Ten, without a doubt, liked the man. But how and why the American had taken a liking to him, he wasn’t entirely certain. Sure, Johnny has told him on more than one occasion about the different things he liked about him, but he still wasn’t completely sold. Was it because he had always been so skeptical? Perhaps, but Ten highly doubted that Johnny fell for him that fateful day at the parking lot. It took hearing stories about Johnny’s kindness and intelligence before he truly developed feelings for the man, after all.

 

—

 

“Long day, Tenny?” he asked the yawning Ten, who managed a weak nod in reply. It had been a busy day for both of them, Johnny being caught up in assisting meetings at the Dance department regarding the upcoming show’s production schedule, but Ten looked exceptionally spent. They continued walking in silence toward Johnny’s parked motorcycle. It was a chilly evening, and the two were at liberty to hold hands and lean against each other for there were hardly any people around. Once they made it to the parking lot, Johnny let go of Ten, presumably to get the motor ready. Ten lazily put his helmet on with his eyes shut, and stretched his limbs a little.

“What an adorable little kitten...” Johnny said in a voice so soft that Ten barely heard it. “I am not cute.” the brunette opened his eyes to the sound of Johnny’s laughter. Not one of his usual low chuckles, but a full-bodied laugh that made the other’s eyes crinkle. Ten’s eyes landed on Johnny, crouched down next to his bike and stroking an actual kitten. “That’s contestable,” Johnny snorted. “... kitten.”

Ten spent a good five minutes chasing Johnny around the parking lot, his face beet red in embarrassment.

 

—

 

“Are you sure I’m allowed to be here, Ten? The exhibit isn’t opening till later this week.” Ten waved him off nonchalantly. “You’ll be coming with me, anyway. And besides, I think I owe my model a private preview of the exhibit.” Johnny put a hand to his chest, feigning shock.“Do I really have the honor of being toured by the Chittaphon Ten? I must be dreaming.” the Thai man shoved him lightly, causing the older man to smile before intertwining their fingers.

Ten proceeded to show him each work, explaining each medium he used and how each piece reflected the exhibit’s theme. All the while, Johnny was listening intently, nodding along to Ten’s explanations while staring at each piece’s handiwork.

“So what do you think so far, John?” Ten asked nervously upon realizing that Johnny had been quiet all this time. Johnny turned back around and cupped Ten’s hands in his own, kissing them so gently that Ten thought the older man mistook his hands for glass. “It’s beautiful, everyone’s gonna love it.” he wrapped Ten in his embrace, and the younger man mumbled a word of thanks against his chest. Ten pulled away to meet Johnny’s eyes. “But we still have one more work to see...” the younger said, words laced with meaning. It didn’t take much for Johnny to know what he meant.

Before he knew it, he was ushered into a nearly empty room that was blindingly white. His confusion only seemed to double as Ten dragged him over to a corner, where the older man’s white bust was placed atop an equally white pedestal. Johnny stood chest to chest with his cast, his eyebrows furrowed. Ten held his shoulders and angled him slightly so he’d stand beside the bust instead. “Tenny...?” he said questioningly as the younger man ran over to the light dimmer next to the door. Ten gave him a cheeky grin in return, as if to say, “wait till you see this”.

Suddenly, the pristine white of the room disappeared. In its place appeared a room that literally glowed from the vibrant splashes of neon paint, littering every corner of the space. Johnny turned his head toward his rigid bust and was left awestruck. Ten had placed several colored lights around the pedestal, angling them in such a way that light seemed to be emanating from the bust to the rest of the room. He would have remained quietly immersed in this luminescent world, had it not been for Ten who he realized was cuddling his arm. Johnny gingerly kissed the top of Ten’s head before Ten spoke up.

“The truth is...this piece wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t met you. Sure, I knew who you were before we formally met but–Johnny I know it’s dark but I can still feel you laughing ohmygod ...but that’s the thing: I knew things about you, but I didn’t really know you. This piece...I made it because I realized that you weren’t how I thought you’d be.”

“And is that...a good thing?”

“It’s fucking fantastic.”

 

—

 

It was barely 8PM when the two managed to leave campus. To celebrate what he believed was definitely going to be a successful exhibit opening, Johnny decided to bring Ten to his apartment for a change. Though their respective apartments were situated on two roads running opposite each other from school, Ten caved when Johnny announced that dinner would be the greatest pairing to ever happen: red wine and cheese pizza.

 

—

 

“Do you have any siblings?” Johnny asked, halfway through his third slice of pizza. They were cuddling by Johnny’s living room coffee table, doing away with chairs in favor of sitting on the carpeted floor. “A younger sister, how about you?” The American shook his head, and Ten didn’t press him any further. When Johnny stood up to bring his and Ten’s wine glasses to the sink, Ten eyes caught sight of something poking out from behind one of the sofa cushions. Curious, he reached for it.

It was a sketchpad. What caught Ten’s attention wasn’t how clearly worn-out and used it was, but that it was a brand that could only be found in specialized art supply stores. He didn’t want to pry, but Ten was so intrigued by the charcoal and pencil smudges that littered the cover. Before he could even scold himself, he had already flipped the sketchpad open. “Ohmygod…” he said quietly to himself. As he flipped through the pages, carefully noting the gradual improvement in each drawing, he realized that they were all studies of a person. They were incomplete, but it was clear that they were all sketches of Ten.

Johnny came back from the kitchen, flustered upon seeing that Ten had found his sketchpad. The younger man, sensing his presence despite not looking up, lingered on a page. “Why didn’t you tell me you could draw?” he looked up, and Johnny couldn’t help but feel his voice disappear as Ten’s eyes pierced through him, mimicking diamond shards.

“Because...I don’t quite know how to yet.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that.” Ten sighed. If he had sounded angry, he didn’t really mean to.

“I’ve never had anyone draw me before, so I gotta hand it to you cause these look really good but…”

“But?”

“How come they aren’t finished?” Ten looked down and began leafing through the sketchpad once more. He couldn’t help but wonder why Johnny never drew his lips, almost always covering it strategically with his hands or flowers, or just leaving the space where his mouth should be completely blank.

There were so many things Johnny wanted to say.

He wanted to tell Ten about the time he first saw the younger a year ago: he was roaming around the campus looking for a place to study when his feet led him to the old building. He saw him, he wanted to say, at his art studio one afternoon when Ten was splayed on the floor, eyes shut in slumber. He wanted to tell Ten about how he couldn’t seem to pull himself from looking away because of how his soft tuft of black hair rested atop his angelic face, and how his pale fingers curled around the well-worn paintbrush he fell asleep holding. He wanted to tell Ten about how beautiful he found him, and not because of how he looked, but how he made him feel. He wondered how hard he must have been working for him to fall asleep suddenly, and why he holed himself up to be alone in the old building when the rest of the Art majors stayed together elsewhere. He wanted to know what Ten thought about when he made art, what made him smile, and what fears or doubts clouded his mind; he wanted to know everything. He had never been captivated before, especially not like this. He wanted to tell Ten how he resolved to learn how to draw after Ten stirring in his sleep forced him to walk away. He sketched every day, wanting to be good enough to capture Ten’s beautiful image that he couldn’t get out of his mind. Tried as he might, he couldn’t seem to draw the younger man’s lips. He felt like he didn’t deserve to. He wanted to tell Ten how he didn’t have to try too hard to find his name, when ‘Ten: the future of contemporary art’ was the first thing he saw when he opened the school website. Heck, he even considered telling Ten about how he swayed his art collecting father to purchase one of his works before his market value shot up.

He wanted to tell him all these things as they flitted through his mind, but decided it was best to do so another time.

“I just...never knew if I could do you justice, Tenny.” Johnny said, his hand retreating to his nape the way it normally did at times like these. Ten flushed, and Johnny was certain it wasn’t from the wine. Embarrassment was replaced with determination as he handed the sketchpad to Johnny before proceeding to lie down like a life drawing session model on the sofa.

“Well, I’m here right now, aren’t I? Now go get a pencil and figure out my lips already.” Johnny shook his head with a smile, and put the sketchpad down on the coffee table.

“I don’t need a pencil to do that.”

“Huh?” Ten turned his head and found Johnny’s face inches from his, the older man’s face so filled with love that Ten thought his chest would burst from all of these feelings he had never known before. He had every right to be afraid, but the fact of the matter was: he wasn’t. Johnny had given him no reason to be. Ten closed his eyes, and Johnny’s lips landed on his without a moment’s notice. It was gentle and sweet, conveying all the feelings they had for one another. Johnny could feel the way Ten’s arms carefully snaked around his neck, and the way the younger man smiled against his lips, as if to say he had finally accepted Johnny as his significant other. Johnny was about to pull away, but Ten wouldn’t let him.

 

This was dangerous. If Ten kept kissing him like this, Johnny would know enough about Ten's lips to fill up an entire sketchpad with drawings of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, drop by my ko-fi (ko-fi.com/protractorstan) if you'd like to tip or commission me. And if you wanna talk, you may via @minseoktho on twitter. :)
> 
> \- Mau


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